


Prologue: Deep Cover

by cantletgo, StarsAreMyOcean



Series: His Way Home (A Lizzington AU RP) [2]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lizzington AU RP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantletgo/pseuds/cantletgo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsAreMyOcean/pseuds/StarsAreMyOcean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soon after the death of her father, the duo dives back headfirst into work hoping the natural flow would iron things out. Only weeks after returning to the Post Office, Red and Liz are thrown into a deep undercover mission posing as a couple. </p>
<p>The moment that brought even more confusion to their relationship is explored in this off-beat Prologue to "His Way Home" the AU Lizzington RP series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue: Deep Cover

**Author's Note:**

> This is a PROLOGUE to the AU Lizzington RP series taking place on Tumblr written in Liz's perspective! The style will be different from the rest of the series, but it's more of a context builder with important metaphors for the series wrapped in.

Liz ran faster than she ever had before, bullets raining above her head, arms pumping at her side. Back hunched low, she almost kicked the ground to propel herself forward.

Forward.

Moving _forward._

Every step was an equal and opposite reaction, the ground pushing back, sending tremors up her toes, her ankle, her calves, until the vibrations rang through her chest and pulled at her heart.

Her heart.

It pounded in time with her rapid escape, the metronome keeping the symphony of steps in time.

Forward.

She ran forward with him.

Him.

Her hand pulled him forward, kept him moving.

**.**

**.**

It was only two hours earlier he had been pulling her, keeping her moving. Down the hallway, trailing behind the mark and his array of bodyguards and escorts. Red had swept her off to the side up against the wall of a dark hallway.

_Lobby guards_ , he had whispered, lips brushing carefully against the tip of her ear.

They couldn’t just stand there. People were starting to look. They needed time until the guards continued their rotation.

Their mark had stopped, checking to see that the couple was still following. He found the pair pinned up against the wall, raising one curious eyebrow.

_Kiss me_ , she had whispered.

_What?_

They were beginning to look suspicious, drawing more attention than walking past the guards themselves. She pulled him closer, left hand on his hip and dug the other into the short-cropped hair on his scalp. His forearm pressed lightly against the wall as she pulled him in. Their tongues danced a forgotten number, muscle memory keeping them in time. They hadn’t kissed like that since their stay at the theater. They’d agreed. It needed to be the last time. But this was different. They were undercover and cover needed to be maintained.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Everything had gone so very wrong. So very fast. Cover blown. Guns pulled. Everything escalated in the blink of an eye. Neither of them acted but rather _reacted_ , ducking and dodging, moving in sync. Their bodies were still queued into each other’s frequencies, no longer needing to be in each other’s sightline to know how the other was moving.

And now they were almost out, almost home, but it was the final stretch. Liz ran faster than she ever had before, bullets raining above her head, arms pumping at her side. This time he was close behind, a reason to move forward, to put every hard decision and hurt feeling _behind_ them.

She needed that. She needed that more than anything, because she wanted him.

The guards moved on, the coast was clear. She broke the kiss and pulled his head back, only to be caught in the gravity of his stare. His eyes. She saw what he had seen so long ago. She saw _her_ way home.

There were galaxies in his eyes and poems on his lips. He was lazy Sunday afternoons, the cold side of the pillow.

The promise of tomorrow hung on his breath and seared in his touch.

She stepped back. Though nothing could drive her away. She needed clarity, the kind of clarity only space could provide. So she asked and he granted, much to her dismay. He always granted.

So he stepped away.

Too far away.

They ran forward.

They ran _forward_.


End file.
